A Long Road Ahead New Version
by Maestoso
Summary: A story about Greg and my character Emma's relationship and all of its crazy twists and turns and its ups and downs. I hope that you enjoy this one much more than the last. I know I do.
1. Chapter 1

**Very important! This is almost the same story that I started a couple months ago but since the time that I started, I've become a much better writer and have decided to re-write the entire thing. I hope you enjoy this story much more than the last, I know I do.**

**-Mae**

**Tina's House—9:43 p.m.**

"So… do you want to get out of here?" Greg asked in reaction to the sudden emptiness of the house now that Kiersten had gone and Riley and Nick seemed on their way out.

Emma gave no initial response. She pondered where the night would end up, and exactly how she'd feel about herself when the morning came. She told herself that she was done with 'one-night-stands' since they only left you broken and used. In Greg's eyes her face was blank and unreadable.

Finally when she came back to reality having decided on whether or not to go. Greg perked up. "Sure, let's go." Emma said with a slight undertone of enthusiasm.

Greg picked up on the interest in Emma's voice and felt glad that he might have a chance at getting a relationship out of this brief encounter, if everything went right that is.

Greg smiled unknowingly. The corners of his mouth wrinkled, pulling into a boyish grin; thoughtless and sweet.

Emma giggled under her breath and smiled to herself. She waited there on the edge of the couch for Greg to make a gesture to signal their exit but there was none. Greg was too stunned that someone had finally shown interest in him and was lost in his happiness. Emma cleared her throat softly in an attempt to try and wake him from his trance.

"Oh! Oh, okay! Umm, I hate to say this but I didn't bring my car with me." Greg's smile faded as his eyes fell in slight embarrassment.

Emma looked slightly confused, "Then how did you get here exactly?"

"Well, you saw me walk in with Nick and Warrick right? Well, I got picked up because of Warrick's situation with Tina. So in being picked up I left my own car at home. Shit that reminds me, I forgot to role up the windows!"

"Then we better get out of here." Emma hinted subliminally having her own intentions in mind as well. She was ready to get out of here and get to know him more in private but he obviously wasn't quite getting the hint. Greg paused for a moment, thinking.

"Okay, so can we take your car?" Greg asked, concerned at her reaction. He didn't want her to think that he was selfish, but really did need to get back to his car.

"Yeah, I've got the keys right here. Only one thing…" Emma began to say. Greg's face twitched a little, readying himself for bad news, "I can't navigate at all. You'll have to drive." Emma finished.

"Oh, okay. That's no problem." He reached his hand out in a gesture for her to give him the keys but Emma grabbed it instead and jumped up, running for the door.

"Uh…" was all that escaped Greg's mouth.

Emma was unaware that he had said anything. She was excited, having been hearing the torrential rain outside. She couldn't wait to run through it.

She kept a firm but gentle grasp on Greg's hand as they made a run for the door. Nick and Riley were standing in the hallway not really noticing anything.

"Bye Ry! I'll call you!" Emma called back to Riley as she swept past her in pursuit of the front door. Nick looked confused. "Uh…" was all that escaped his lips before Riley smothered it with a tantalizing kiss.

"Don't ask questions." She said and stared up into his chocolate eyes.

They had finally reached the threshold, the portal to which they would escape into the cascading rain. It came in droves, and pounded hard on the surfaces that it hit. The rain had a forgiving quality; it would wash away your sins without question and lather you in innocence. It had a mysterious quality as well. From looking straight at it you could not see through it, it was a wall of water that obscured your view and hope of seeing into the other side. When stepping through it, you had to have faith that the rain would keep you safe between its droplets and surround you in a watery shield.

They both stood, looking out through the door. Emma had an absent smile on her face having gotten lost in the thought of the rain. She loved the rain, more than most other things. She felt freedom in it, love in it, and safety in it. It was like her second home. She had only stuck her foot out the door a couple inches before Greg squeezed her hand and brought her back to reality.

"Wait! I need the keys!" Greg reminded her. She felt so foolish, but inwardly disappointed that she wouldn't be able to spend more time in the rain, even if it was rummaging for her car keys, she loved the rain. She enjoyed the feeling of it trickling down her skin, the renewed sensation she felt as she danced in it, almost reborn to the world.

She fumbled within her jeans pockets to emerge with the large and clunky keys to the '89 Toyota MR2. Not being able to afford much else, she took pride in her little car. It still had life to it, spunk and vigor even through its age. She loved it. Reluctantly, she placed the keys in Greg's outstretched hand, meanwhile keeping a firm grip on the other one. She was not going to let him back out or slip through her fingers. She had felt a connection while they talked and she wanted to explore that connection, thoroughly and intimately.

After handing the keys over, Emma gripped Greg's hand a little tighter. He looked down at their hands clasped, hers molded into the palm of his. He squeezed hers gently and she looked at him playfully almost daring him, to do what he wasn't sure. Her eyes shifted from the rain back to his, indicating that now was the time. He gave a slight nod and a soft smile, the soft wrinkles returning to the corners of his mouth. His eyes moved back to the rain, scrutinizing it and anticipating its cold feel against his skin, his drenched clothing stuck to him, the thought of being in the rain with Emma. He loved it.

Emma took the first step, Greg not far behind. They were instantly drenched. Their clothes clung to their skin, tight and restricting movement. Emma's curly hair dripped into her face. She laughed and danced, never once letting go of Greg's hand. He loved to watch her. She had an angelic quality in the rain, a glow about her that was rare and exceptional. He smiled, seeing her perform for a non-existent audience. She moved graciously through the pelting droplets of cold rain. She smiled, her face turned skyward as she twirled and twisted loving each moment.

She looked over at him, her eyes greener than ever. They burned through him with their intensity. She looked sultry and luscious in her wet clothing and hair, enticing and tantalizing as she stepped toward him alluringly. Droplets ran down her freckled cheeks, her hair curling around her face. Her long lashes were gleaming and her hands were cold. She was beautiful.

Greg didn't know how to react. He hadn't experienced this before. He had never known anything like it. He just looked back and smiled just as irresistibly. Emma wrapped her arms over his shoulders locking her eyes with is. His deep brown irises looked down upon her deeply, having certain sadness to them. She stood on tiptoe, using her hands as leverage.

Slowly, she moved in. Both their eyes began to close, her lips connecting with his lightly, leaving him wanting more. She pulled back only millimeters and returned, her mouth hot and skilled on his. He kissed her back passionately, his mind going blank as his hands searched her female figure. He backed her against her car, leaning her back gently but sustaining the kiss.

Emma's own mind had gone blank. The only thing she felt was his sweet taste, his soft lips and his passion. She kept her hands on his broad shoulders knowing that he had moved his own hands to her jaw, resonating there cold and soft.

They broke apart, both panting softly. His lips remained parted, only slightly. She stared up into his dark, bottomless eyes. She placed her hand softly against his cheek and smiled endearingly. This wasn't what she expected. The silence was infinite but comfortable. It resonated within their gaze, a contented stillness that made time stop.

Emma finally broke their gaze, reaching up to run her hand back through his sopping wet hair. She laughed when it splattered her with droplets as it sprung back at her and Greg laughed too, just by looking at her smiling face. This could just possibly be what he had been looking for.

Their eyes met again, as he slowly released her from the side of the car. She kept his hand in hers, but looser now. Their fingers lightly intertwined. She smiled standing it front of him as he smiled back sweetly.

"So about going back you your apartment?"

**A/N**: I need to tell you this! It's urgent that you read this if you like this book so far! I have just recently (meaning 1 days ago) overhauled this chapter entirely. I still have yet to do that for the later chapters. Please wait while I get chapter 2 up before you keep reading or else you will probably be incredibly disappointed, my writing from when I started is not as good as my writing as of now! Please wait until I put the next chapters up before reading on, thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

**Greg's Apartment— 11:19 p.m.**

"So this is it… home sweet home." Greg said as he led Emma through the door of his apartment.

By the looks of it, he hadn't cleaned up in months. There were clothes thrown in every direction and the comfy old couches were barely visible under the piles of newspapers and chemistry magazines that he had subscribed to. To be honest, it didn't look much different from Emma's own apartment.

"In my expert opinion, it's not too shabby." Emma said. She kept scanning the apartment, seeing its comfortable furniture (Or what you could see of it) and inwardly smiled.

"I'm working on my cleaning skills, I promise." Greg said, slightly embarrassed at the messy state of his apartment. He began to straighten some newspapers and stack the magazines, hurrying around the small apartment to clean up but Emma stopped him short. She laid a soft hand on his, stopping him from crumbling up a week old newspaper. He looked up into her eyes, "Don't clean up for me!" Emma stated. She picked his hand up off the newspaper. "I like it this way. Don't you?" She sat down on it, flopping onto the couch and kicking her shoes off.

"I guess. I mean, I do like it but I thought that having you over you wouldn't want to see all this shit." Greg gestured with is hand and swept it in a semi-circle around him, referring to the clutter of the apartment.

Emma giggled lightly. "Greg, calm down. I could care less about how your place looks; I'm not that kind of girl."

"And I'm glad for it." Greg smiled down on her. She looked adorable in her wet clothing and ridiculously curly hair. It flowed over her shoulders and down her jacket resting naturally on her breasts. The locks of curls twisted and turned into large ringlets and slight frizz. Greg couldn't resist.

He began to sit down by her feet. She accommodated him and bent her knees toward herself. He reclined himself against the comfortable couch, outstretching his arms along the backboard. He looked down at her, though her gaze was elsewhere. She was examining the stack of DVDs that he had on his coffee table. Greg followed her gaze and then watched as she picked one up and opened it.

"Fight Club?" Emma grabbed the DVD excitedly. "I haven't seen this in so long!" Her eyes lit up and she sat up completely, resting her feet on the floor instead of on Greg this time. She leaned back, unknowingly onto Greg's arm now draped around her shoulders. Noticing his hand near her shoulder, she turned to him and looked at him mischievously through her long lashes, "I have to hand it to you, that was pretty smooth." She said through a small smile. Greg just shrugged his shoulders and looked away indifferent, "What can I say?"

"You could say this…" Emma said as she moved in on him. She climbed on top of him, straddling him and kissing him playfully. It was unexpected but appreciated, as Greg again enjoyed the feeling of Emma's smooth lips against his and her hands on the back of his neck. He felt her shiver on him, even her lips quivered faintly. Greg stopped suddenly.

"Why didn't you tell me you were cold?" Greg asked her, an almost irritated undertone in his voice. He looked up at her and again felt her body shiver. She shrugged her shoulders and quirked a smile. "I guess I just wasn't quite thinking about it at the time."

Greg smiled. "Here, lemme get you a blanket." And without letting go of Emma, he stood up, her legs wrapped around his waist almost as though he were carrying a child. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder, kissing his neck delicately which made Greg want her even more.

Somehow, he opened the door to his bedroom and laid her down on the bed. He attempted to let her go but she stayed, still hanging onto him. "Don't leave me. Pweez don't leave me…" Emma made a puppy face that was irresistible.

Greg looked up and rolled his eyes good naturedly, "How about this, I give you one kiss for every time you let me go. One appendage at a time." Greg looked at her and quirked an eyebrow playfully. "How does that sound?" Emma looked back at him with a small smile on her face.

"We'll see. Now, about those kisses?" Greg smiled as he gave her a light kiss on the lips, but enough for Emma to let down her left arm.

"Hey, we're making some progress!" Greg exclaimed. "Don't get your hopes up too high now; we've still got 3 more to go."

Greg again leaned in for another kiss, but deeper this time. He brought passion to it this time, kissing her hard and with enthusiasm. He felt both Emma's right arm and left leg fall back onto the bed. He came up and Emma had her eyes closed. He smiled to himself inwardly.

"Alright, that may have been good but you've really got to work for it this time." Emma said playfully.

"You ready for this?" Greg returned, just as playfully.

"Bring it."

This time, Greg really went for it. He kissed her hard and with such zeal that he surprised himself. The kiss was long and overpowering. As he came up for air, he ended with a small, light peck on her luscious lips as a finale. He felt her right leg fall silently to the bed as she lay there unmoving.

"God damn…." was all Emma could say.

Greg chuckled to himself, "You underestimate me. You haven't seen anything yet." He smiled and walked toward his dresser to find some clean dry clothes to dress her in. She rolled onto her side to watch him, his masculine form moving fluidly through the room. She stared without regret. He bent over to look in his bottom drawer to look for pants for both of them to wear when he looked behind himself to see Emma staring and smirking.

"Since you're staring at it, what do you think of my ass?"

Emma rolled onto her back and laughed aloud.

"Well, I'm gonna be honest. It's okay… but I've seen better."

"Oh really?" Greg said as he flopped beside her on the bed. "Now who exactly would you be referring to?"

"You really wanna know?" Emma looked at him from the corner of her eye.

"Yes… yes I do."

"Well, that Nick friend of yours has one sweet keester." Emma said it with a smile and laughed at herself for even saying it.

"Okay, so you're gonna tell me that Nick has a better… _keester_ than I do? Well than…" Greg looked away with a smirk on his face. He held a stack of wrinkled and disheveled clothing in his hand, twisting to look over his shoulder.

"Oh come on! Have a little self-confidence. She pulled his free hand, forcing him back onto the bed. He rolled onto his side, and looked for a long time wonderingly.

"What are you thinking?" Emma asked. Greg was taken aback. His eyes opened wide and he broke their gaze looking in another direction to avoid her omniscient stare.

"You kind of caught me off guard." Greg said, speaking honestly. He had never quite been presented with that kind of question.

"It's just a question. What are you thinking right at this very moment?"

'_That you're beautiful.' 'That I want you.' 'That you look so adorable when you're wet.' 'That we're taking this far too fast.'_ Thoughts ran through Greg's head that he knew he couldn't say, so he thought of something else.

"I'm thinking that I forgot to roll my windows up after all this time." Greg said, knowing that it was a true statement but not true to what he was thinking.

Emma's face was blank for a moment. "Oh." was all that she said. She wasn't offended by any means but definitely wasn't expecting that answer. In a way, it was disappointing. She didn't quite know what she wanted to hear exactly, but she knew it had nothing to do with is car.

Greg picked up on the hint of disappointment in Emma's eyes and felt regretful, _'I knew I should have said that she's beautiful. What the hell was I thinking?!'_ But it was too late to go back now. He was forced to play it off as though he knew nothing, a choice that might not have been the right one.

"So what are you thinking about?" Greg asked, hoping that he would escape this precarious situation.

"Well, I was thinking something but I don't know. Now I guess I'm thinking right about now that I'm freezing." Emma smiled through chattering teeth.

"Oh! Yeah, I got you some clothes; I just forgot to give them to you. I'm sorry." Greg looked at her apologetically and she just smiled back at him, her jaw quivering from the cold.

He brought his hand that held their clothes next to her stomach. She was leaning on her elbow, head in hand. She stared down at them, her face rather blank.

"Take your pick."

Emma scanned the clothing: a large black hoodie with 'Stanford' on the front, green plaid boxer shorts, a white undershirt, and a gray zip-up hoodie with nothing on it.

"Let's see how we can do this. Who's colder?" Emma asked through now loudly chattering teeth. Her hands were shaking and her face was flushed.

"I don't think that's even a question." Greg said as he slid the large hoodie and white undershirt over to her. He picked himself up off the bed and made his way back to the dresser to get pajama pants and thick socks to really keep her toasty.

"How's all this?" Greg asked as he placed the remaining items down on the bed.

"I think it's warm, and makes me sleepy." Emma said as she curled up into a ball after placing the hoodie over her head.

"Don't fall asleep yet! You still haven't changed out of your wet shirt and you need to put these pants on. I am determined to make you warm. Now go into the bathroom and change… please." He quickly added at the end.

"Aye, aye sir!" as Emma rolled off the bed and gave a sleepy salute. She wobbled her way toward the bathroom door and groggily closed it behind her. She came out not moments later completely changed and ready for sleep.

"Sleepy time." Emma said, too exhausted to say much else. She flopped down on the bed face first, then slowly curled into a ball with her hands tucked under her head and her knees bent to her chest.

"Wait!" But Greg was too late. Emma had fallen fast asleep right on his bed, curled up into a tight ball.

He rolled his eyes, _'Why?! Why the hell here and now! Shit, now I've got to get her home.'_ Greg thought to himself, frantic.

He didn't want her to think that he was trying to take advantage of her by letting her sleep in his bed after only knowing him a couple hours. If it were a different situation and they had known each other much longer, things might be different but this was not one of those times.

"Emma, wake up. Come on you have to wake up for a minute." Greg whispered into her ear.

Emma's eyes opened slightly as they glared at him menacingly.

"What?" Emma asked irritated.

"I need to get you home, now I just need the directions to where you live and I can take you there." He stepped away only a moment to grab a piece of paper and a pen to scribble down what she said.

She mumbled something that Greg could barely make out, but wrote it down anyway. He folded up the paper and shoved it into his pocket. Emma lay on the bed, still curled into a ball. Her hair was a large frizzy ball that fell unevenly around her face. He just smiled, she was cute.

He straightened, then looked down at the clothes that he had planned on changing into, the clothes that he had completely forgotten about. _'They can wait.' _Greg thought to himself as he shivered under his damp clothing.

He kneeled down onto the bed, resting his weight on his hands:

"Emma, Emma wake up. Come on I've got to take you home." Greg spoke into her ear. She shifted a little, and her lashes parted to reveal forest green eyes glaring menacingly at him. She glared for a second, then went back to sleep adjusting her position to be more comfortable.

"Okay, then we'll have to do this differently." Greg said, to himself mostly. He climbed off the bed and positioned himself so that he could place his arms underneath her to carry her to her car. He curled his fingers around the folds of the blanket that was wrapped around her as he lifted her, in one easy and smooth move. She laid her head against his shoulder and wrapped one arm around his neck to help him. He grabbed her keys off the counter skillfully while still holding her and made his way out the door careful as to not bump her into anything on the way out and down to the car.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: So yeah, this is chapter 3 of my overhauled story, I hope you're enjoying it so far. Okay so enjoy! Oh, and I don't own anything but my own character throughout this entire book.

**Emma's Apartment—1:24 a.m. **

Greg pulled slowly into the parking lot outside the apartment building. His eyes had grown heavy with sleep and he had nearly missed 3 exits on the way but he made it…finally.

Emma was still fast asleep in the passenger seat. Her head rested against the window and the blanket was wrapped tightly around her, its edge pulled close to her chin.

"You ready?" Greg asked, again mostly to himself. No reply came. "Good." He pulled open his door and was hit with the heavy and humid air of the early morning. The dew was forming on the cars around theirs. The air was barely breathable and the streetlights were bright around them. Greg slammed the door behind him and walked around the front of the car briskly. He opened Emma's door slowly, making sure she didn't fall out when he did so. He began to place his arms beneath her again when she awoke.

"What are you doing?" Emma asked, confused and irritated.

"I was going to bring you back to your apartment. You were asleep." Greg explained, exhausted.

"I can do that myself thank you." Emma began to stand but was tangled in the blanket.

"Here, lemme help you with that." Greg reached for the blanket to unwrap her so that she could exercise her right to independence but she refused.

"I can do that myself!" Emma said, holding her hand in his face. Greg just rolled his eyes.

"This isn't quite the time to be acting like a 2-year-old now let me help you already!" Greg ignored Emma's protests and took the blanket from her, draping it over his forearm while she struggled to get out of the car. He sighed, slightly frustrated.

He reached out a hand, but not forcefully so that she could take it if she felt the need for help. After a minute of Emma stumbling over herself to merely stand up, she finally allowed herself to take his hand and let him help her.

She stood, groggy and wrinkled. She began to straighten herself out; even though she was only wearing a hoodie and some shorts she felt that she needed to be presentable in the least.

They walked together; both extremely tired and slightly irritated toward the building, Emma unknowingly still holding Greg's hand.

Once inside, the dim hallway barely allowed them to find the elevator door. They blindly searched the hallway, finally seeing its faint silhouette in the dark. They climbed in, Emma now leaning heavily on Greg's shoulder. He looked down at her, simply smiling to himself. Tonight had definitely not been what he had expected.

Once inside the elevator, Emma sank to the floor. She sat there, pretty much passed out leaning against Greg's leg.

'_I wonder if this is her usual night.'_ Greg thought to himself. He really did wonder, since he had never quite had this type of night before, at least not since High School. He wondered if she was more immature than he originally thought, but for that matter he hadn't thought she was immature at all.

"Hey, Emma?" Greg looked down at her on the floor, the elevator floor numbers dinging in the background.

"Yeah." Emma replied simply.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You want me to come in when we get in there?" Greg asked, not really looking to get lucky, just wanting to be polite.

"Yeah."

"You sure? I mean I could just drop you off and get a cab."

"No. You come in. Then we go to sleep." Emma said in short, curt sentences.

"Okay." Was all Greg could reply before the elevator doors opened to the floor they were looking for. He picked her up without much complaint on her part and carried her out into the hallway.

"Say Emma?" Greg looked down at her on his shoulder.

"Yeah." Emma replied without opening her eyes.

"What's your apartment number?"

"Oh. Put me down." Greg placed her on her feet and steadied her as she rummaged in her pockets for her keys. She opened the door to apartment number 412B which was pitch black.

"Make yourself at home." Emma said as she hobbled into the living room, throwing her keys onto the kitchen table without a second thought. Greg stepped in cautiously, almost as if the floor would give way under him at any moment. He placed the blanket from before on the table neatly, putting the keys on top in an effort to be polite and neat. Emma flipped some switches, eyes still closed. The lights stung Greg's eyes and he squinted to try and ease the pain.

Emma had turned around and looked at Greg, large bags under her eyes. His gaze finally fell on her and she motioned for him to come to her.

He stepped forward and she took his hand, leading him into the bedroom. Right before he stepped foot inside, he stopped.

"Wait!" Greg exclaimed. He retracted his hand from Emma's and she turned around confused. "We can't do this. We're moving far to fast. I mean…" Greg couldn't meet his gaze with Emma's. "I just met you and… I mean don't you think that's a bit to short of a time to know each other before we sleep together?" Greg finally looked Emma in the eyes. She was trying to keep herself from giggling, she kept her hand over her mouth and Greg could see the corners of her mouth wrinkled in a small smile.

Emma finally couldn't hold it in any longer. She laughed lightly and shook her head. "Greg! I wasn't going to sleep with you! Well, at least not like that." Greg became confused.

"What do you mean 'At least not like that.'? " Greg looked innocent and mystified, only adding to his adorability.

"Greg, you're cold, you're over 5 miles from your own apartment and I don't think you'd want to get a cab this early in the morning. Or put it this way, I wouldn't let you. I was going to ask if you wanted to just crawl into bed and sleep! Not sleep _together._" Emma explained.

Greg was relieved. "Oh." was all he could say. "Well, when you put it that way then sure."

"Do you want your hoodie back now that I'm home? I've got my own." Emma offered him back the black hoodie from before.

"Thanks." Greg said. His shivering had stopped but he was still rather uncomfortable in the clothes he had on.

"Okay, so now that that's settled which side of the bed do you want?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Emma's Apartment—8:13 a.m.**

Emma opened her eyes slowly. She had uncurled during the night, sprawled out on her bed. The covers were tangled around her, a sea of blue cotton and black sheets. Her gaze fell on her alarm clock.

"Crap." Emma stated simply. She was too tired to conjure much else to say. She rolled over and stretched her arm out to the other side of the bed searching for that cute chemist from the night before. There was none.

Emma bolted upright. Her eyes stung with early morning as she scanned the room for any sign of him. Nothing.

"What the hell is this?" Emma asked to no one really. She climbed out of bed, wearing pajama bottoms and a black tank top. She rubbed her eyes individually as she walked through her bedroom door and into the family room. Nothing had changed. There were no dishes in the kitchen sink and nothing was out of place. He had disappeared without a trace… or saying goodbye for that matter.

"Well then." Emma shrugged her shoulders and sighed depressed. She had told her self repeatedly that this wouldn't happen anymore. This wasn't highschool, this wasn't college. She was an adult now and it was time to have a serious relationship for once. Well, move onto another relationship at least.

She trudged sleepily into the kitchen, blindly reaching for a box of Lucky Charms. She poured it in a cheap plastic bowl, dry. Milk was overrated. Emma hopped up onto the counter, her usual dining spot and began to eat, picking out the marshmallows first and eating those then dumping the sugary pieces into the garbage. Those, in her opinion, were worthless.

Now Emma had time to think. She flopped down on her crappy couch lazily, folding her arm over her eyes and resting her face in the crook of her elbow.

'_What's wrong with me?_' Emma began to think. She had only held two semi-serious relationships, both ending abruptly and painfully.

'_He was cute too. Why'd I just let him get away?'_ She thought regretfully.

'_Whatever, I shouldn't be doing this. No point in dwelling.'_ That was Emma's way. No point in dwelling on the past. It didn't bring any good and it didn't change anything, it only made it hurt more… at least more than it did already. She'd had enough pain in her life to dwell on, she didn't need more.

Emma removed her arm from her face and looked over at the cheap clock sitting on top of the discount TV she had gotten. It was almost 9.

"Crap." Emma stated simply. She wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. She didn't have work, and she didn't really have anywhere to go or any errands to run. She was stuck home, alone, to think.

At that, her cell phone rang briskly. Emma just looked at it sitting on the table. It continued to ring, but Emma was too lazy to get up and get it. The ringing finally stopped and she heard the beep that alerted her of a voicemail.

"Ugh…" Emma moved slowly, slipping slowly off the couch and bringing herself to her feet sluggishly. She walked over to the table and speed-dialed her voicemail:

"You have one unheard message. The following message has not been heard:

_Hey Em! I'm sure you're probably not up yet but I wanted to know if you wanted to go out to breakfast with me, Tina and Kiersten._" Riley paused momentarily, Emma guessed to apply her makeup with more precision, _"then you can tell us all about your night with that hot little tamale Greg from the Crime Lab. Call me later."_ And the call ended. Emma pressed 7 to delete the message and considered actually attending this brunch that Riley had suggested.

'_Couldn't hurt. And it would give me something to do for a little while.'_ She thought to herself blankly. She decided to call Riley back later, as of now she had to get into the shower and get ready.

**Taxi Cab—8:32 a.m.**

The cab smelled of strong musk and age. Its seats were torn and its windows were scratched. The cabbie was an old black man, a gray mustache and a beard that only covered his chin. He wore a newsboy cap that was old and ratty and sported a loose-fitting rain coat that was a dull yellow. His hands were wrinkled and cracked. His face had deep crevices of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and his eyes gleamed.

Greg looked out the window drowsily. He saw the scenery passing him by out the window, seeming to fly by a million miles and hour. It reminded him of his own life. He was sunken in his seat and he laid his hands beside him like a four-year old.

"I shouldn't have left." Greg whispered to himself as quietly as he could.

"Can't quite go back now. Unless, well… unless you really wanted to." Greg looked up at the rearview mirror surprised. The cabbie had spoken, something he hadn't done the entire trip.

"I'm sorry?" Greg questioned, confused.

"You were just saying that you wanted to go back, so I said that we can't go back now. We're almost there." The cabbie only glanced at his rearview mirror as he spoke to Greg.

"Oh, I didn't mean…" Greg began to explain.

"So why would you want to go back anyway? Someone back there?" The cabbie kept glancing back, never quite keeping his gaze on Greg long enough to really feel like he was truly listening.

"Um… I guess so." Greg didn't return the cabbie's glances.

"You guess so? Now, I don't get it. You must have left something back there that was somewhat valuable. Or else you wouldn't want to go back." the cab driver's glances looked confused.

"Well, yeah."

"So why do you wanna go back?"

"Why are you so interested?" Greg asked good-naturedly. He was curious as to why a cab driver of all people would want to know.

"That's a good question. I guess I shouldn't have asked." The cabbie kept his eyes on the road this time.

There was a long pause, not quite awkward but definitely not comfortable either.

"There's someone back there." Greg spoke quietly. He spoke loud enough for the cab driver to hear but soft enough to not sound as though he was desperate for him to hear it.

"Oh. Hmm… so who is this person?"

"A girl I met last night."

The cab driver looked into the rearview mirror and kept his eyes on Greg.

"What kind of girl is she?" Greg looked up confused.

"An interesting one. She's funny, and pretty, and completely out of my league." Greg kept his eyes on his lap.

"So does this girl have a name?"

"Emma. Her name is Emma. I've only known her for one night though, so I can't say too much about her. She's just, Emma."

"Hmm…" the cabbie didn't say anything. Greg looked up at the rearview mirror hoping he would ask another question so that Greg wouldn't feel so foolish to be saying all this. "One night, huh? I guess you can't really find too much out about someone in only one night. Especially if you leave so soon. Why not stick around to get to know her better?"

"I don't know." Greg spoke honestly. He looked up at the rearview mirror again and met the cabbie's eyes directly, holding them there for a second.

He wasn't sure why he had called a cab. He wanted to go back, learn more about her. Take her out to lunch, learn about her life, and learn about her childhood and her interests, her pet peeves and her desires. He wanted to know. He would find out.

**Emma's Apartment—9:21 a.m.**

Emma had spent a leisurely half an hour in the shower, singing loudly and lavishing in the steaming water cascading down her body. Just like rain, it made her forget about her sorrows and sins and allowed her the freedom of a clean conscience. She stepped out into the humid air, enjoying the warmth that would be gone soon after she stepped out of the bathroom, but a time must come for everything and now was that time.

Her hair dripped down her shoulders as she stepped hesitantly into her cold living room. Shivering, she quickly made her way into her room to dry off and get some warm clothes on.

She dried, humming to herself pleasantly. So far, no regret had come to her mind but that was soon to change.

She stepped into a decent pair of jeans and pulled her favorite hoodie over her head knowing well that Riley would probably only take them to a little joint on the corner, no where super fancy for breakfast of all things. She slipped on her most comfortable yet stylish shoes she could find and walked out into the living room making her way to the kitchen table. She picked up her cell phone smoothly with one hand, walking into the kitchen without taking her eyes off of her cell phone. She hopped up onto her counter and speed-dialed Riley.

Emma sat there waiting, still humming to herself absently. Finally there was an answer:

"Hello?" Riley's hint of a southern drawl made Emma smile.

"Hey Ry. It's Emma, I'm returning your call about breakfast, and it sounds like a great idea." Emma forced a smile onto her face so that it would reflect in her voice.

"I'm so glad that you called back! I was gettin' a lil' worried that you weren't gonna make it. So our plan was to all meet up at that Local Café that's pretty close to you, around 10, maybe 10:15ish?"

"Sounds great. I'll be sure to meet you there." Emma said hastily, anticipating Riley's next question, but it was too late.

"So how was last night with Greg?" Riley asked inquisitively. Emma's heart sank. The last thing she wanted to think about was Greg.

"Well you'll just have to wait to find out." Emma said, internally hoping that it was enough to get Riley off her tail. She just wasn't ready to talk about it yet.

"Aw! You suck! Alright, but I'll want excruciating detail once we get there. Promise?"

"Promise."

"See you in about an hour." The Texan finished, hanging up abruptly.

Relieved that she wasn't forced to talk about Greg, Emma placed her phone down on the counter and walked casually to her CD player. She had bought the thing on discount while in college, like most other things in her apartment. Her flirtatious tendencies had a knack for getting her price-cuts. She had kept it for nostalgic purposes even though the thing was a piece of shit. She flipped through her CD case and withdrew one of her favorites: a mix that her best friend had made her in High School oh so many years earlier.

Emma began to hum along with the ancient CD, turning the volume up so she could hear it in the bathroom while she did her makeup and hair. She was determined not to let last night get in the way of having a good time with her good friends. But she couldn't help remembering the feeling of a man's hand on her, of his warmth next to her, or his steady breathing and his peaceful expression as he slept. Emma pushed the thoughts out of her head and started to apply her makeup as a distraction.

**A/N**: Hope you're enjoying it so far. Reviews would be greatly appreciated.

-_Mae_


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: So here it goes— I don't own anyone from CSI or Riley and well just about anything for that matter. But if did own Greg, I think we all know what I'd do with him;P Okay so on with the chapter!

**Local Café— August 8, 2006 10:04 a.m.**

Emma took her seat among her three best friends: Tina, Kiersten and Riley. She knew that she wasn't quite ready to tell them everything that had happened so she figured if she was able to distract them enough by elaborating on what happened before they left, it would make things a little less painful. She sat, playing off her internal pain with laughter and giggles discussing their relationships and fantastic sex lives. Emma wanted that, or at least wanted that back. She longed for the slightest touch, sexual or completely platonic. She was lonely.

"So Emma how was last night?" Kiersten asked through a smile. She was currently dating one of the hottest men Emma had ever laid eyes on and it ignited a friendly jealousy within her that she didn't know she possessed. It wasn't in her to be jealous.

"It was pretty okay." She kept a smile on her face and tried her best not to draw attention to the topic.

"Yeah, let's hear about it." Tina managed to say through giggling over what Riley had just been talking about.

Riley leaned in closer, wanting to hear this.

"Well, it went a little something like this…"

**Greg's Apartment—12:14 p.m.**

After paying the cab and returning to his apartment, Greg needed a distraction. He scanned the room for something, anything to do with himself.

"Laundry!" Greg exclaimed, almost too happily. He hurried over to his dirty clothes piles that were all over the place and bundled them into a single pile near the front door. By the time he was done the pile was enormous.

"Okay, only a little laundry." Greg again spoke to himself. He grabbed all of the whites out of the gigantic pile and stuffed them into a large cotton bag that he hauled downstairs and to the Laundromat

'_It was a mistake to leave…' _Greg thought to himself regretfully. He knew that girls like Emma didn't come around all that often. The Laundromat was across the street from his apartment building, a small Mom & Pop Shop for laundry. He threw that bag over his shoulder and nearly blindly ran across the busy intersection, not really looking where he was going or anticipating anything in his way.

Breathless from running with the extra load, Greg dragged the bag into the front door of the Laundromat and smiled politely at an older woman who was sitting reading the paper waiting for her clothes to dry. She smiled back, politely but with no sincerity and went back to her newspaper. Greg ignored her and placed his laundry bag on the floor in front of the washer while he fished $1.50 in change out of his pocket.

After loading the clothes and stealing some detergent, he plopped down on the chair 2 seats away from the woman with the paper. She eyes him silently, pretending to keep reading. He felt her eyes on him and he looked in her direction expecting her to either say something or look away embarrassed. She spoke:

"I've never seen you here before." She said lowering her newspaper. It rested on her crossed legs, legs that were long and lean in decently cut shorts with sporty sneakers.

"I don't often come here. Actually, I don't think I've brought my laundry to a Laundromat a while." Greg smiled, trying to be politely humorous. She smiled back, lips pursed tightly.

"What's your name?" She asked, her expression inquisitive.

"Greg. My name is Greg." Greg leaned over and reached out a hand to shake hers, "And you are…?"

"I'm Sandra. It's nice to meet you too. So do you live around here?"

"Across the street on the 5th floor. It's a decent view considering how lovely the smell of exhaust and the sound of traffic are in the morning." Greg replied, his response dripping with sarcasm. She chuckled and rolled her eyes good naturedly. "And you?"

"I live about 2 blocks from here. I like this place since it's rather peaceful and I too enjoy that great aroma of car exhaust. Looks like we've got something in common already." She finally smiled, her teeth showing white and straight.

The buzzer on her clothes rang and she looked over disappointed. She placed the paper on the seat next to her and checked her clothes.

"Well, Greg, I guess this is my farewell."

"Clothes done already?"

"It would seem that way." Sandra said as she pulled her dried clothes out of the dryer and stuffed them into her own laundry bag. She turned to face him, both her hands on the opening to the bag. "I guess this is goodbye. Same time next week?"

"It's a date. Greg said, standing up and shaking her hand. He walked with her toward the door and opened it for her. He watched her go to her car and pull away.

Now he was left alone to dwell on the night before and his mistakes, something that he hoped doing laundry would keep from happening.

**Emma's Apartment—9:18 p.m.**

Upon returning from brunch with everyone, Emma had decided that her apartment was a disgusting mess and that it needed cleaning. There was mail all over the place, dirty dishes, dust, clothes, and all around grossness.

By the time she was finished her apartment looked like it had been completely remodeled. She had folded her clothes, placed the dirty ones in a hamper to be cleaned at another time, she had done all the dishes, cleaned out the refrigerator of all of the week old take-out cartons and swept all the floors. She fluffed her crappy pillows and cleaned out from beneath the cushions of her couch finding nearly $10 in change. Her blankets were folded, her spice rack was alphabetically organized and the soap scum in her shower was gone. Everything, absolutely everything had gotten cleaned.

Emma stood at her sink looking out over her work. She had changed her clothes earlier that day, slipping into a comfy pair of sweatpants, an old ratty undershirt she had stolen from an old boyfriend and a pair of bright yellow cleaning rubber gloves. She had wrapped a red bandana around her head to tame her wildly curly hair and taken off all her makeup to be more comfortable. She stood there, admiring her work. She couldn't remember the last time she had cleaned that much.

She snapped off her gloves and threw them into the cabinet below the sink and headed toward her CD player. She flipped through the CDs patiently, knowing which one she wanted to find. It was an old CD her mom had bought her for her 21st birthday, a Big Band artist that Emma loved.

She opened the case carefully and delicately placed the CD into the player. After pressing play, the popular and relaxing songs of Frank Sinatra came out of the speakers. Emma closed her eyes and melded with the sonorous music. It filled the room, a melodious and calming sound that resonated within her apartment. She swayed to the beat, lost in the lyrics.

Without opening her eyes, Emma did as she normally did on lazy nights like these; she slid down to her floor and lay beneath the table. She could remember ever since she was a child that being under the table gave her an undeniable sense of security, a deeper sense than a blanket or the famous boogie man repellent. She lay there on her back, her knees bent and her hands behind her head. She lay there and daydreamed getting swallowed by the music.

Her part-time job at the Four Seasons as a waitress was unpredictable and physically demanding as well as her former career as a show girl, neither of which gave any mercy to a plea for some personal time. She had left her job as a show girl because of the harassment that faced her night after night by her manager, Barry. To compensate for the sudden slack in funds, Emma had quickly taken the position as a waitress at the local 5 star hotel. It didn't make nearly as much as her old job but she was the kind of person who was willing to work extra hours to get just a little bit of spending money or an extra couple dollars to splurge on a friend. It had been her tradition, along with other odd things to do this on nights when she had time.

As a nightly routine, she came home and dropped any extra coin change she had into an empty jelly jar to be cashed in later. She would then put on music and lose herself in it. Music was part of her life and always had been. She had saved almost every CD she ever had and they were all now stacked in messy pile in the corner of her living room. Her ancient CD player was her only lifeline to sanity and she liked it that way.

Nightly, she would lay under her table and daydream. She let her mind wander freely, unbridled and free. To her, it was pure bliss.

:-:-:-:-:

Greg was now at Emma's door. He had remembered from the night before where it was. He stood there, stupefied. He felt foolish and immature for just coming over. He hadn't really expected to see her again after last night but he couldn't help but follow his instincts which led him straight to her door, apartment 412B.

He raised is fist to rap on the door but couldn't earn up enough courage to go through with it. Every time his fist dropped involuntarily back down to his side. He could hear music coming from behind the door, a sweet jazz that sounded familiar.

'_I can do this. What's to be afraid of? What have I got to lose?' _Greg mused to himself as he lifted his fist, determined to knock.

He rapped harshly on the door, more severely than he had meant. Instant regret flooded him, but before he could react the door was opening. Emma stood there looking worn but satisfied. The red bandana around her hair was a nice touch to the lazy looking outfit, flavorful and unique.

"Hi." Greg said faintly. He was suddenly overcome with anxiety not having prepared himself for their actual encounter. He became embarrassed by his boyish greeting and cleared his throat purposefully before speaking again, "Hey." He said with more enthusiasm.

Emma looked at him, amused. She could see straight beyond his pseudo-masculine shell and right into his heart, her forest green eyes burning into him. "So where were you this morning? I woke up and you were gone. Not a very polite farewell I must say." Emma crossed her arms over her chest and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. Greg looked stunned.

"Is this how you normally greet people?'

"Only if that person makes me confused and irritated. So, why'd you leave?" Emma looked at him, a smoldering anger in her eyes.

"I can't give you an excuse. In fact, I won't give you an excuse. I'll give you an apology. How does that sound?" Greg asked. He was hopeful that she would compromise.

"We'll see when I get the apology, but I want answers. Why did you leave last night?" Emma was becoming more noticeably flustered. The absence of Greg in her bed this morning had definitely ruffled her feathers.

"Look, I know you're mad. I shouldn't have left. I'm sorry that I did. If I wasn't sorry, I wouldn't be back."

"So you're back because you pity me? Is that it? Are you sorry for me or sorry for leaving? Because right about now it seems like you pity me. I don't need pity from you." Emma glared at Greg, her fingers curling tighter around her arms. She was upset, Greg could obviously tell.

"I'm sorry! How can I phrase my apology to suffice? I'm sorry that I left. I regret leaving, and I didn't mean to upset you. Please, accept my apology. _I'm sorry_." Greg stated. Emma looked at him, her eyes softening. They were glistening with contempt and sadness. He had truly upset her.

"Okay. Apology accepted. But I still want to know why you left." Emma stiffened, waiting for his response. She braced herself against the door frame, expecting to hear about her inadequacies, her immaturity, and her hopelessness.

She stole his breath. Her questions flustered him, since he was ill-equipped and unprepared for her directness. He opened his mouth slightly, trying his best to find the words but was stopped before he could even begin.

A new track had started on the CD in the apartment and as the music began to play, Emma's face lit up immediately. She grabbed his hand and dragged him inside, shutting the door behind him quickly and efficiently. Greg stood where he had been abandoned, at the intersection between her kitchen and her living room. Confused, he tried his best to get her attention.

"I left because I…" Greg began, having finally found out what exactly what he wanted to say. He wanted to say it, wanted to tell her the complete truth; how he was a coward and fearful of new situations, how he felt insecure lying next to her in among the foreign sheets. He wanted to say these things, but was unable to. Before he knew it, Emma had slung her arms around his neck. She pressed her head against his chest and stepped delicately side to side along with the music.

She swayed with him, dancing slowly to the music that played. Her eyes were closed and the look on her face was delightful. His hands rested lightly on her hips. Her undershirt had risen on her torso slightly revealing her pale, supple skin beneath the fabric. Greg's fingers caught a taste of her hips cool, smooth feeling. He carefully slid his fingers further up revealing more skin. Emma didn't notice a thing. She swayed, completely engulfed in the music.

Greg fingers stroked her lower back delicately. He looked down on her placid face and placed his chin on the top of her head. His fingertips ran delicately over her luscious skin.

"So, about why you left…" Emma spoke unexpectedly, her eyes remaining closed.

"How about I tell you over dinner tonight…" Greg said.

Emma stopped cold. She pulled back a little but kept her grip on him.

"Greg, it's after 9. Where are we gonna go?"

"I've got a place in mind. You hungry?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything, so there. I think that should cover anything that might come up in this chapter. If it doesn't… well you can just kiss my ass.

**Vikki's Diner—10:37 p.m.**

Emma slid slowly into the red patent leather bench as Greg seated himself opposite her. He had taken her to a cute little diner that was open late.

"How did you know that I loved this diner?" Emma asked, running her fingers around the rim of her complimentary glass of ice water.

"Well, some say it's a gift. I think that it's inherited. My Grandma was psychic."

Emma looked at him peculiarly, "I think I'm gonna go with the inheritance theory. It sounds more unique, more distinctive." Emma slid off her padded vest. Even though it was August, the nights could get pretty chilly. "I've got a gift of my own. I'm not as fortunate as you to have psychic powers but I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

"And what would those be?" Greg asked, leaning onto his forearms on the table.

"I can make people feel like their floating." Emma said, leaning back onto her seat placing her hands behind her head.

"Really? And how exactly do you do that?" Greg asked, rather interested to know.

"You know a magician can't reveal her secrets."

"No exceptions?"

"Maybe one. Okay, now listen carefully. You've got to lean in for this one; I don't want anyone else knowing." Emma leaned onto the table. Greg did so as well.

"Alright come here," Emma said leaning in closer now.

Greg leaned in even farther as was met with a delicate kiss. Her soft lips barely met his, luscious and sweet. Her sweet perfume filled his nose, a subtle scent that made him feel young and hopeful. She pulled away just barely, then farther. She opened her eyes slowly, her long lashes ending at their peak near on her near her brow. Greg was elated. He was floating 6 feet in the air. He opened his eyes as well, and then smiled foolishly.

"Do you agree?" Emma asked, smiling sweetly. Her lips pulled across her teeth. She looked at him innocently, hopeful and strong.

"I think I'd have to agree. But are you sure you don't have a knack for performing romantic and clichéd kisses because if that's it, you're a master. Well, if it's either you're great at both." Greg smiled and chuckled as he spoke.

Emma smiled back. She was slightly embarrassed but delighted. He seemed worth coming to dinner with.

"So, who are you?" Greg asked, tilting his head to the side curiously.

"I'm your new friend Emma. What else do you want to know?"

"Why you dance in your living room. That's my first question." Greg said.

"Why do I dance in the middle of my living room?" Emma repeated to herself, raising her eyebrows and leaning back against the seat. "That I'd have to say is something I can't explain. I mean, don't you have those things that you do in life that just come naturally? That's why I dance."

"Where are you from?"

"So I guess this is 20 questions, is it? Well, I was born in New York and I grew up in New Jersey. The rest I don't want to talk about."

"Fair enough. Why are you in Las Vegas?"

"No reason. But I needed a change, and I found Vegas. I'm not a gambler, but I like the city life and New York was too cold."

"Are you ready to order?" the waitress asked, interrupting their Q & A session. Emma hadn't even opened her menu and didn't intend to. She looked up at the waitress and smiled, then back at Greg who was flipping through his menu quickly.

"I'll have a waffle with a scoop of vanilla ice cream please. Hot chocolate to drink, and extra whip cream." Emma said as though she had recited it a thousand times. Greg looked at her, stunned.

"Yeah, I guess I'll just get a burger." He stated absently. He handed the waitress the menu and thanked her before returning to Emma.

"Who are you?" Greg asked again.

"Do you normally interrogate every girl you take to dinner?" Emma questioned, amused.

"Every time." Greg said playfully through a small smile.

"And do you get a second date out of them?"

"Depends. So far, would you consider a second date?"

"We'll see. Now it's my turn. Who are you?" Emma asked, leaning again onto the table.

"I'm Greg. I'm a geek who investigates crimes for the LVPD, I like to surf and I drink Blue Hawaiian Coffee. I was the captain of my high school chess team and I attended Stanford University not to mention that I can fold an Origami crane."

"That's quite the laundry list of things. I'm impressed." Emma said, taking a sip of her water. "Quite a lot of talents. So who are you?"

"I just told you, didn't I?" Greg said, surprised that she asked again.

"You rattled off a lot of stuff, none of which was really you."

"You're rather persistent aren't you?"

"You noticed?" Emma said sarcastically.

"Well, what do you want to know?" Greg asked.

"Everything, everything and anything there is to know about you."

"That'll take longer than one dinner. Does this mean you're taking me up on the offer of a second date?"

Before she could speak, the waitress placed a plate sized waffle on the table in front of her simultaneously placing a good sized hamburger in front of Greg. "Thank you very much." Emma said as the waitress shyly smiled and walked away.

"Well…" but again Emma was interrupted as Greg's cell phone rang loudly. Greg looked down at his pocket and began to rummage through it to get out his cell phone. The screen read 'Grissom'. He looked up at Emma embarrassed, her face a mask of disappointment.

"I'm sorry; I've got to get this." He began to apologize but she waved him off.

"Go ahead, I'll be right here." She picked up her fork and began to poke at her ice cream. Greg walked out of the doors to the diner not wanting to disturb anyone inside.

"Hello?" Greg said shakily.

"Greg? I need you here at the crime lab, we've got a fresh case and we could use and extra pair of hands." Grissom said sounding slightly distracted but firmly.

"Griss, I'm kind of in the middle of something. Do you really need me right this second?" Greg asked, peaking through the window of the diner to see Emma's back to him. She was leaning heavily on her elbows and held her head in one hand.

"Greg, I told you to come in now. Now get here. I don't care what you're doing. And next time don't question me when I tell you to come into work." And with that said Grissom hang up abruptly. He was angry, Greg could tell. He dropped his phone to his side and looked into the window regretfully. He walked back in, but instead of sitting down he began to grab his stuff.

"I've got to go. I'm so sorry. I'll make this up to you I promise." Greg said, avoiding Emma's eyes as he said it. He couldn't bear to see her reaction.

"What is it about me that makes you want to get away so badly?" Emma said despondently.

"I've got to go into work. Solve crimes; get bad guys off the street. There's nothing wrong with you." Greg placed a light hand on Emma's but kept himself from holding hers. "You still up for that second date?" Greg asked hopefully.

"I don't think I can trust you not to leave." Emma looked up at him now, her eyes bright and gleaming.

"Then I'll have to make you trust me. I've got to go." Greg said, as he slipped a piece of paper into Emma's hands discreetly and threw a $20 on the table. "I've still gotta be polite don't I?"

Emma smiled up at him courteously. His hand grazed hers as he slipped away and out the door. She stayed seated and clenched her hand into a fist. Disappointed, angered and hurt she yanked open the crumbled paper to reveal his number scribbled in light pencil. Emma just rolled her eyes and placed it in her jeans pocket.

:-:-:-:-:

**August 9, 2006**

**Four Seasons Hotel: Verandah Restaurant- 8:45 a.m.**

Emma slowly walked into the hotel lobby seriously considering quitting her job as a waitress.

'_This job doesn't pay me enough to do this shit.' _Emma thought to herself as she cleared a recently occupied table. The people who had last sat there had left a hell of a mess for her to cleanup with at least 5 large plates, countless glasses, used utensils and dirty napkins not to mention that the table cloth itself was dirty. She carefully balanced everything on her black tray and carried it slowly into the back to be cleaned.

Walking into the kitchen, she dumped the dirty dishes into the sink and went to talk to the cook.

"Hey Angelo, how you been?" Emma asked the slightly overweight Italian chef standing in front of the large stove top. He was just under 6 feet, with salt and pepper hair. He was tan and wrinkled a wise old man by nature. His hands were worn and calloused but his smile was warm and inviting.

"Ah, Emma! Good to see you mia bambina, come ova here." The broad Italian chef exclaimed, holding one arm out toward Emma. She smiled wide. She loved Angelo, he was like the father she never had. She ran to him, careful of the stove and hugged him lovingly.

He held her arms and drew her away to look at her more closely. His smile was loving and accepting, everything that Emma never had growing up. He laughed whole heartedly and deeply, the wrinkles around his eyes deep canyons within his skin, "Come stai?"

"I've been alright, you know nothing new." Emma said through a smile. She hoped that her smile would offset how she really felt, but Angelo knew her to well and saw right through it. He read her eyes, and in turn looked concerned.

"Emma, essere onesto, you know me, I won't judge." Angelo spoke softly.

Emma knew that he was right, but she was strong and steadfast in her decision to forget about Greg for now. It was frustrating and disappointing that he kept leaving but she was determined not to let it show. "It's nothing! I don't know what you're talking about!" Emma said through a broad smile. She acted surprised to hear him ask her such a question and played it off well. "What table do you want that delivered to?" Emma asked trying to dodge the question as best she could.

"Diciannove" Angelo said. He opened his mouth to say something more but Emma had already taken the tray and was hurrying out the door to Table 19.

A/N: So I hope you're enjoying the book so far. I know it's a lot to ask but I really would like to know what you really think of it which means reviews. Oh yes, the dreaded reviews. It's not that hard. A couple words, possibly a decent sentence. Not much to ask of people. If you decide not to review, that's okay. But if you could, please take the time to review.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: So it's the same deal every time, I don't own anything.

**August 11, 2006**

**Emma's Apartment—2:09 p.m.**

Emma had finally given up and called Greg back to which they had set a date to meet at Emma's apartment. She had planned to just hang out, laze around and chill but her plans changed once he got there.

They had ended up on her bed. She wasn't quite sure how they got there but she didn't care to ask at this point. Greg's weight was welcome against Emma's body. He was on top of her, his mouth on hers. She was trying her best to get herself out of her T-shirt as he in turn tried to un-hook her bra. Emma could feel his yearning for her, his desire and his passion.

He hungered for her soft skin, her luscious lips, and her supple curves. He knew it himself; from that first time that they danced he had an ache for her deep within. He wanted to find out if she tasted as good as she smelled, and how her breasts felt under his masculine hands. Their motions were heat filled and passionate, unstoppable and undeniable.

Her bra had been thrown to the floor replaced by Greg's hand, his fingers softly gripping at the tender flesh. She moaned into his mouth from the simple anticipation of what was to come, which made him want her even more. Some how, Emma's jeans ended up on the floor along with her bra. Her panties would come next. Greg's shirt was long gone as were his jeans. The only thing that separated them now was his boxers and protection.

When he entered her, Emma moaned louder pulling away from his mouth only for a moment to let it out. Their bodies were hot with passion and anticipation, her heat invigorating Greg even more.

He moved within her rhythmically, a slow steady pace that drove Emma mad. She herself had wanted him from the start, though she was unaware as to how much. His muscular shoulders against her hands, him hard within her and his taste in her mouth made her craving apparent.

She moaned even louder, her climax building inside her. Greg kissed her neck and her collarbone with fervor, her glistening skin against his lips tantalizing him even more. He let out a moan himself, low and growling. He was hard within her, his pace a little faster now. He wanted this to last; he wanted this moment to last forever.

Emma arched her back in pleasure; she closed her eyes and bit her lip in sheer bliss. He was moving faster now, but yet tantalizingly slow. He was gentle with her, his hands did not grope but caressed. His motion was smooth not aggressive, he was patient and caring but animalistic in his intentions.

Greg lowered his head into the curve of Emma's shoulder and moaned loudly, trying his best to stifle it with her skin. He panted heatedly, his body glistening with sweat and heat. He could no longer restrain himself, he moved faster and harder within her.

In response, Emma let out a loud gasp and an incredible moan. She moved her hips with him, clawed into his back with intense pleasure. She gasped and panted in the heat of it all, losing herself within his hard, fast rhythm. She arched and curved her lower back in a mixture of pain and pleasure, Greg, heavy and hot on top and hard within her. She could feel her climax coming. It surged inside her, anxious for release.

Greg moved inside her even harder now, he no longer cared to be gentle. His rhythm was even faster now, his panting heavier, and his muscles rippling. He could feel his own climax coming, the pressure low within him.

Emma bit into his shoulder in a mixture of stifling a moan and the sheer pleasure of him against her. He rocked hard inside her, pounding against her now. Unexpectedly, Greg grabbed her wrists and held them above her head, sliding hot on top of her. Emma could feel the pressure release inside her. A moan escaped her lips that reverberated within Greg's ear. "Oh _God_!" Emma cried and came so hard she nearly passed out. Emma's bones melted into water and she went limp beneath him, but he kept moving. He grunted and panted and moaned as he pounded hard into her.

Greg could feel the pressure finally release within him, and he lowered his head into Emma's shoulder and shuddered, a mixture of panting and moaning escaping his lips. Greg collapsed beside her, his face falling into the pillow, both of them incapacitated by the pure pleasure of it all. Emma had gone weak, lost in how good she felt all over and the aftershock and how she needed her breath back.

Greg was in a similar state. He had turned his face to the side and was looking at Emma, glistening and beautiful, naked beside him. Her hands still rested above her head and her chest rose and fell rhythmically. Her mouth was slightly agape, panting and smiling at the same time. She looked over at him and smiled wider, but said nothing. He smiled back. She lowered her hand to hold his and she rolled onto her stomach, mimicking his position.

Neither of them said anything. Greg rolled to the side and removed the condom and Emma pulled the covers over the two of them. Her sheets were smooth, black and exotic while her comforter was a light navy blue, cotton and comforting. Together, they created a balance that was inviting and warm.

Emma closed her eyes and snuggled closer to Greg. He molded himself to her and draped an arm over her stomach, his fingers intertwined with hers. Her hair smelled sophisticated and sweet, not fruity or tangy. Her skin was still glistening and her shoulder smelled of her perfume. Greg closed his own eyes and felt himself drifting off to sleep, warm beneath the comforter and beside Emma.

A/N: So yeah, this chapter was completely sex. I thought I would spice it up a little for you guys since I know I enjoy a good sex scene now and then. So tell me what you think about how I write my love scenes, I'd like to know if I need improvement. Well, I hope you enjoyed that chapter. Don't worry, the mature content will return in later chapters.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **Okay, so according to my friend FutureMissCSI60 I've had my disclaimers all wrong. So I own any character besides the ones that refer to CSI: Las Vegas or any place in Las Vegas that I mention. So, now that that's been revised, enjoy!

**August 11, 2006**

**Emma's Apartment—6:58 p.m. (Same day as last chapter)**

Emma's eyes opened slowly. She was lying naked under her comforter, her whole body limp. The light coming from the window gave Emma a sure indication that it was late, and that she should probably get up.

She could feel pressure on her side, heavy and isolated. She glanced down and recognized it as Greg's forearm, muscular and rough. She smiled to herself knowing that he finally hadn't left. She reached down to rub the back of his hand gently, a mixture of affection and trying to wake him up. He groaned and shifted his weight to be more comfortable. Emma just laughed; he was cute when he was sleeping.

She rolled onto her other side and propped herself up on her elbows, her comforter draping itself over the small of her back.

"Greg…" Emma whispered down to him. There was no response, so Emma whispered louder. "Greg! Come on, get up." Emma rubbed her hand up and down her upper back and he shifted again opening his eyes just a little. He smiled sweetly and rolled onto his back.

"Good morning sunshine!" Emma said smiling. She lay on one side and petted his hair fondly. He smiled back up and her, shaking his head and chuckling to himself.

"What time is it?" Greg asked, wiping sleep from his eyes. He sat up and looked around the messy room, clothes strewn everywhere, random novels sitting on all surfaces, post-it notes stuck everywhere. He thought it was comfortable and cute, a perfect match for Emma. He looked over at her while she searched for the clock. She didn't notice him staring, but lifted herself in all directions trying to figure out where she had left it.

Earlier that week, her alarm had gone off early for work and she had chucked it against the wall. Only now did she regret that.

Finally giving up, she sat back down and sighed, "Well, by looking out the window I'd say it's late evening." She reclined back onto her hands, her breasts fully exposed from under the sheets. Her hair had loosened from when she had put it up in a rubber band. It had wild frizz and hung off to the side slightly. In Greg's opinion, she looked great when she was disheveled.

"So you ready to go back to bed now?" Greg asked, flopping back down onto the pillow.

"So you don't have to get to work?" Emma asked, lowering herself to his level. She lay on her side and held her head in her palm, propped up on her elbow.

"Shit." Greg stated as he buried his face in the pillow. The case smelled like Emma, and he dug his face in a little deeper.

"Something wrong with where you work?" Emma asked, concerned now.

"Not that. I just don't want to leave." Greg rolled onto his back to face her. He looked up into her eyes and she smiled.

"Why not?"

"Because it's warm here, and you're here, and I like it here." Greg said, shifting his position to be more comfortable. He drew the covers over his shoulders and curled up into a ball.

"I'll be here when you get back. Go catch some bad guys." Emma rested her head on the pillow and trailed her hand along the silhouette of Greg's upper arm under the sheets.

Greg just sighed, "Alright, but as long as you promise you'll be here when I come back."

"Pinky swear. Nothing will change, promise." Emma held up her pinky and looked at him innocently. Greg just rolled his eyes and smiled. He removed his hand from under the covers and hooked his own pinky with hers.

"See? Now it's solid." Emma said smiling. She waved their hands back and forth in the air. Greg smiled slightly. He was glad that he had come back.

He unhooked their pinkies and he rolled out of bed lazily. He pulled on his boxers and then his jeans, remaining shirtless next to the bed. He turned around to look at her and was surprised to find her staring at him.

"What…?" Greg began to say but was interrupted.

"Come here," Emma whispered. He climbed on all fours toward her. Hovering over her, she motioned for him to come closer and as he lowered her head she kissed him. Her lips were as smooth as silk and her taste was delightful. He was now over her on the bed, similar to their position only hours ago.

The kiss was growing more intimate and Greg became hopeful but Emma broke the kiss before any more could happen.

"One for the road." She said, lying under him.

"If I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time tonight." Greg said quietly and gave her a final kiss before he climbed off the bed and scooped up his shirt and shoes. He hesitated as the bedroom door and looked back, but Emma wasn't watching. She was busy maneuvering herself out of the large bed; try to find the alarm clock Greg guessed. He paused there, watching her but knew that he had to go.

He stepped into the hallway barefoot, keeping his socks in his pocket while he put his shirt back on. He stepped into the elevator and sat down on the floor, quickly pulling his socks and shoes on before he hit the bottom floor.

:-:-:-:-:

Greg drove away quickly. He hadn't realized the time until he turned his car on and immediately knew that Grissom would have his ass if he was late. He sped away, Emma's image reverberating in his mind.

**CSI Crime Lab—7:46 p.m.**

Greg came running into the lab. He was out of breath from the sprint but tried to hide it as he entered the lab. He tried to hide it and quietly took his place in his lab. He was certain no one had noticed him come in, until Grissom stood in his doorway looking rather irritated.

"Greg?" Grissom said; his tone flat and serious. Greg looked up slowly, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"Hey Griss." Greg said forcing a friendly smile.

"That Pin-Up racist is back. I've got a case for you; you'll be working with Nick and Catherine on it." Grissom stated frankly.

"Okay." Greg said, confused as to why Grissom seemed so weird. When Grissom walked out, Greg shook his head and began to put his lab coat and gloves on soon to go find Nick and Catherine to figure out what the case was about.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **So okay, the disclaimer is always the same. I don't own anything that has any association with CSI including Eric Szmanda, although I seriously wish I did own him cause you all know what I'd do with him if I did (reference Chapter 7 for details ;p)

**August 11, 2006**

**CSI Crime Lab—7:54 p.m.**

"Damn this guy is sick." Greg said as he looked over the crime scene photos handed to him by Catherine.

"It's his signature. After he strangles them, he poses his victims to look like famous pin-up girls," Catherine said as she placed more down on the table. "The connection," she said, pointing to them individually, "is that none of them were blonde, they were all around the same age at death, they were all tall for a girl and they were all killed in the same vicinity. They are all similar in all of those areas. He's killed before, and then he went into a remission of sorts. Now he's back out. Our goal right now would be to find him and get him off the streets before he kills again." Catherine was bent over the table arranging the pictures. She looked up to see if Greg was still listening and saw a far away look on his face. "Greg?" She straightened herself and waited patiently for an answer.

Greg slowly began to nod his head, gradually coming back to reality. "Yeah, I'm good." he said, lying through his teeth. The freaks that roamed the streets of Las Vegas ceased to amaze him. It seemed as though the longer he worked with CSI the more sick killers came out of the woodwork. Even though he had been working with CSI for a while, he never became immune to the cruelty that humanity could impart on one another. It disgusted him, it appalled him, and most of all it scared him.

"Yeah… so who was the latest victim?" Greg had his arms crossed over his chest, almost as a shield against the heartbreak that these photos were but now uncrossed them and leaned himself against the table on his hands.

"Shelly Nickols," Catherine pointed to one of the many. She was pretty, like the rest. Her eyes were cold and blank, hollow even. Her mouth remained open, a tiny trickle of blood down the corner of her lips. Her hands were behind her head and she lay on her back. Her left leg was crossed over her right, and hooked delicately around the right calf. The nature of the act and the deliberateness of the actions the killer took were too much for Greg. He closed his eyes slowly and lowered his head. There were so many pictures, so many lives taken by some sick maniac out there. It was sickening how he could murder them so brutally but took such care to position them perfectly, make them look life-like and alive. Greg sighed deeply through his mouth and breathed out of his nose. He straightened himself from the table, not even hearing what Nick and Catherine were talking about.

"I'm gonna go get some water." Greg said absent mindedly. He didn't even wait for a response before he stepped into the hallway and leaned against the wall, tilting his head back exhaustedly. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath and stood again. Meaning what he said about getting water, he walked to the break room and slowly sipped down a couple cups before returning.

"You alright there Greggo?" Nick asked, seeming unaffected by the gruesome pictures that lay before him on the table. Greg knew that Nick had just as much of a heart as anyone he knew, if not more. He had just built a defense system to combat the horror of the job. Her name is Riley.

"Yeah, fine. So, now what happened exactly?"

"Okay, it went a little something like this…" Catherine began.

**August 12, 2006**

**Emma's Apartment—6:05 a.m.**

After Greg had left the day before, Emma made an emergency trip to Target for a new alarm clock. She was regretting her purchase right about now. Her alarm beeped annoyingly on her nightstand. Groggily, Emma picked it up and squinted to see the time.

"Ugh!" Emma groaned, irritated. She hated working. She hardly got enough pay; she was pushed around by her boss constantly and overly spoiled guests to wait on who were more than rude. The only two good things that had come out of taking a job there were Angelo and Chris.

Angelo was the Italian version of the father she never had. He was warm, welcoming and wise. She felt childish and young when she was in his arms, small and insignificant in his vast wisdom about life. She had considered becoming an Italian chef herself hoping that with it would come the infinite knowledge about life that Angelo possessed himself. Obviously, she wasn't anything close to an Italian chef or wise beyond her years. The other was Chris. Chris was her gay friend who had worked there for at least 6 months before she had. He had more experience with working with the guests than she had and one day when one of them was berating her about the food he came to her rescue. From the beginning they were instant friends.

Chris had helped her through the rocky ending of her relationship with her ex-girlfriend Porsche. He was intelligent, kind, gentle and loving. His relationship with his boyfriend David of 6 years gave Emma hope that she would find someone, someday. Not to mention that he gave incredible foot massages.

These two people were the only things that motivated her to get up on work days. She worked alternating shifts, evening and early morning. Neither were the joys of Emma's day.

She slid out of bed, wearing a gray tank top and navy boy shorts. Her hair was massively disheveled, as it was every morning. She felt her way dazedly into her bathroom and began to brush her teeth. It was going to be a long day.

**Four Seasons Hotel—7:16 a.m.**

Emma stumbled out of her tiny car wearing a white pressed collared shirt with black dress pants and black thick heeled boots that resembled army shoes. Her hair was put up with chopsticks (a miracle for sure) and her make up was well applied. The only thing she lacked was her willingness to do the job.

"Hey Teddy!" Emma greeted the doorman cheerfully placing a warm smile on her face toward the old man. He was a sweetheart, she knew. He loved people and loved doing things for them even if it was only holding a door open. He and Emma had become friendly acquaintances over the past months and Emma enjoyed his warm smile every morning when all seemed to be going so wrong.

He waved and smiled; a glint in his eye. He opened the door for her and she thanked him gratefully. Emma had only taken not two steps into the door before her boss Pete came charging toward her, red in the face and hot under the collar.

"Emma!" Pete hissed at her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her aside roughly, taking her to a shadowed corner of the grand entrance so that they would remain invisible. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" Pete threw up his hands in complete exasperation and stomped his foot like a 5 year old.

"What are you talking about?" Emma was confused. "I haven't been here since Thursday, what could have gone so wrong?"

"I have been getting complaint after complaint about you. You're not gracious, you have no poise, and you have no manners! I'm sick and tired of having to calm the guests down over your behavior." Pete whined. His voice cracked as he spoke as though he was about to cry and he crossed his arms over his chest.

Emma just watched him, fascinated. He looked so pitiful in that stance, looking as though he was going to break out in tears. She crossed her arms over her own chest, and leaned back on her heels studying him further.

"Emma! Are you listening to me? One more slip up and I'll fire you. Do you understand me?" Pete hissed with vehemence.

"Yeah Pete, I got it loud and clear." Emma said absently still studying him. She watched how the light hit his face when he moved and how it changed with his expressions. He wasn't so bad looking really, a little handsome. It was only his personality that needed a makeover.

Pete threw up his hands and rolled his eyes then rested them on the floor, shaking his head slowly. He placed his hands on his hips and looked back up at her with fury in his eyes. "You know what? I've got a great idea," Pete's voice oozed with sarcasm. "After this shift, you're done. You'll be here until 1 right? After this shift is over, you're gone. That's final." Pete skulked away, infuriated yet satisfied with his decision.

Emma stood there, agape. She knew that she had only treated the guests with the utmost respect. She could not believe that someone would make a complaint about her. Most of the guests that she waited on (the ones who weren't rude and impolite) actually complimented her on her good manners and patient disposition. It confused her like nothing else that he would make these accusations. Emma stopped for a moment and paused in her sulking for a moment, _He wants to get rid of me. No wonder. _Emma thought to herself bitterly. A calm fury came over her, she was determined now to prove him wrong but what good would it do? He would find something to get on her. Her background, her lifestyle, or a single word out of her mouth that he knew he could accuse her on. No matter what way she played it, she was going to get fired. There was nothing she could do about it.

Emma leaned herself back against the wall and put her head in her hands. She didn't rub her eyes knowing that it would ruin her makeup, instead she just stayed there. She thought about everything that would happen if she didn't have a job. She couldn't pay her rent (which most months she couldn't pay anyway), she wouldn't be able to buy groceries for herself, she wouldn't be able to pay the car insurance bill and she wouldn't even be able to afford gas to even run the damn car in the first place, let alone insurance.

Teddy had been watching her silently. He looked on, sympathetic to her hardships. From the months of mornings and evenings that she had come in Teddy had pieced together most of her life. He knew about her mother, her need for money and her self absorbed tendencies. He knew about her father, and how when she was younger, old enough to remember though, who had left for a pack of cigarettes one night and never came back. He had pieced together her life in short, the instability in relationships, financial matters, and living arrangements. Some days Teddy didn't even have to say anything to know what had happened. The morning that she came in after breaking up with Porsche, he didn't say a word. Her cheeks were tear stained and her eyes were puffy. She had done her best to conceal this but Teddy was observant. He knew all, but said nothing.

Emma lifted her head and began to bang it lightly against the wall behind her. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Teddy was watching her. She lifted her head and looked over at him slowly. Her eyes read defeat and frustration. He held out a single gloved hand to her and she came running over. It was the only thing she needed to know what he was offering, a hug. She clung to him, let the tears run free. He hugged her back. It was an embrace, not a hollow, emotionless hold. She dug her face into his shoulder and silently wept into it, her whole body trembling. He placed his chin on her shoulder and stroked her hair compassionately.

She emptied her troubles onto his shoulder through her eyes. The tears were cool and ran freely. They were cold against her cheeks, not hot and tempered. She knew she shouldn't be crying. It was Emma's way to cry. This time was too much for her though. The overdue rent, the nightmare that was her family life, and her general hardships were becoming overwhelming. To put losing her job on top of all that was just too much for her.

She withdrew her head from his shoulder and smiled at him timidly. He smiled back, understandingly. He placed a warm hand on her face and stroked her cheek delicately. "You'll be okay. I'm sure of it." Teddy said quietly. Emma smiled, laughing it off a little.

"If you say so." Emma said, not so reassured. She looked at the ground then back at Teddy, taking a final glance behind her. "I've gotta get to work." She stated simply. Teddy only nodded and withdrew his hand from her cheek. She gave him a final hug and began to jog in the direction of the kitchen. Teddy was left standing, holding the door for the same guests that were getting his friend fired.

**Four Seasons Hotel—Kitchen**

By the time Emma made it to the kitchen, she had wiped away all evidence that she had been crying. She didn't want to be sad for her last day. She wanted to enjoy her time with Angelo and Chris.

"Emma! Hey!" Chris came toward her, arms wide open. He gave her a friendly hug, rocking her from side to side. He pulled away but held onto her arms.

"How are you doing? I haven't heard from you in a while." Chris said, still smiling. He released his grip and linked arms with her. He led her casually to two stools sitting by the counter near Angelo's work place.

Emma considered telling him the news, but she knew it would only make it worse. She'd wait until the very end. That way she could be happy while with Chris for the last time in the workplace. "I'm doing well! I met a boy by the way." Emma smirked as she said it. Chris's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, "Tell me _everything_!"

"Okay, well…" Emma began. Angelo left his stove top to step closer so that he could hear this as well. He tried to be inconspicuous about it but his presence made Emma a little nervous, as to why she didn't quite know.

"Okay, so his name is Greg. He's pretty cute I have to say. He's a little taller than me, muscular, intelligent and an adorable dork at the same time." Emma was smiling through her entire sentence. She hadn't realized it until she read the expression on Chris's face.

"What?" Emma asked dumbly. Chris only smiled broadly.

"So how's the sex?" Chris asked, outright. Angelo was standing just behind him but to the side, completely within earshot.

"Chris!" Emma exclaimed.

"Oh come on, you know you want to tell me." Emma's eyes shifted from Chris to Angelo who was smirking himself. He was looking at the floor and shaking his head, a small smile drawn across his dark face.

"Chris!" Emma exclaimed again. She wasn't quite sure how to approach this. Angelo was able to hear, but she really did want to tell Chris how the sex was phenomenal.

Pete came barging into the door, stomping his feet with every step. "Emma! What the hell are you doing? I told you this was your last day to work, not your last day to sit on your ass and talk to fags!" Pete was shouting now. Chris was less offended than shocked.

He looked slowly in Emma's direction but she avoided his eyes. She was ashamed that Chris had found out like this, and that Pete was in here in the first place. His presence always made things tense and unpredictable.

"Now get back to work!" was Pete's finishing sentence in his long lecture about work and play and other nonsense. Emma had tuned him out completely until the moment that he stepped out the door.

Chris lowered his head to meet her eyes. "Emma? What was he talking about?" Chris looked concerned more than hurt by what Pete had called him.

"Well, you know Pete. He says stuff like that all the time…" Even with her extensive attempts to keep herself composed, Emma broke down again. Tears filled her eyes, slowly rolling down her cheeks. She looked to the ceiling trying her best to keep her tears contained.

Chris knew Pete meant what he said. He stood from his stool and wrapped his arms around Emma. His compassion was welcome. Emma was just glad that he didn't question more, just knew. It was what she liked about Chris; he understood in a deeper way and more keen to people's emotions. David was a lucky man to nab someone like Chris.

Angelo had stepped closer. He patiently waited his turn to talk to Emma, console her. She was his friend, but more than that she was the daughter he never had. His own daughter had died at an extremely young age and Emma was the woman he hoped his daughter would grow to be one day.

When Chris pulled away, kissing Emma on the cheek gently. He looked back at Angelo, tears welling up in his own eyes. He didn't want to see her go. She was a close friend; she was a best friend to him. And the fact that their friendship was pure coincidence was something that Chris considered meaningful. He always thought that they were meant to meet, that it was their destiny. And now she was leaving.

Angelo slowly lowered himself onto the stool. Chris was in the background, violently wiping tears from his eyes. Emma couldn't help but cry. She did not tremble, she did not weep. Though she did let the tears come freely, uninhibited. There was no point in try to keep them at bay any longer.

He sat down with slow deliberateness. Emma kept her eyes on the floor, streaks running down her cheeks. Angelo just sat, and then sighed quietly. Emma now began to sob. She didn't want to leave. She knew she could come back anytime she wanted really, but it was the same situation when she moved away from New Jersey in High School. When she went back, she felt like an alien, an intruder in her own home. It was heartbreaking and devastating to see the people she was once so close with treat her like a stranger, someone they didn't know. She hoped that that wouldn't be the case here in Las Vegas but nothing was ever certain.

"_Il mio inamorato_…" Angelo began, speaking softly into Emma's ear while her head was lowered. She nodded slightly and gazed up at him, knowing that she was his sweetheart.

"_Non sia triste_. _Verramo a contatto di ancora."_ Angelo spoke softly. A curl had fallen into Emma's face while she had been crying and he smoothed it back, placing it behind her ear gently.

Emma nodded again. She wasn't afraid, at least she didn't think. She felt frustrated with the way life had treated her all these years. Nothing ever seemed to get better, she would make it over one hurtle and then another would be thrown right at her. "I'll miss you." Emma whimpered without knowing it. She had meant to say that with courage, with faith in what Angelo had said. They would see each other again, she was sure of it.

He kissed her tenderly on the cheek and brought her chin up with a single finger. She looked right into his eyes, trying her absolute best not to cry.

"_Ti amo."_ Angelo whispered. He did love her like a daughter and he was sad to see her go. He knew that both their lives were busy and it was unlikely that he would see her very often after today, but he remained optimistic in the face of heartbreak as he had when his own daughter had died, courageous and brave; for his wife and in part himself.

Emma just looked at him. She fell into his arms, resting her head on his soft shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back soothingly as she sobbed into his uniform.

"_Shh…il mio bambina_. _Tutto sarà giusto_." He said into her hair. She nodded silently.

Chris came up from behind him and began to stroke Emma's back, calming her. He had known her for 8 months. In those months Chris had made a connection with her through her troubles in life, their relationships; his with David, hers with her girlfriend Porsche. They had shared a bond that was hard to break. He understood as well as Angelo did that it was unlikely that he would see all that much of her anymore which broke his heart.

Emma remained cuddled into Angelo's embrace for a while. No one in the kitchen interrupted them. They just went on with their own business and didn't ask questions. Some of the orders from the guests that would have gone to Angelo were handed off to another chef, just so that Angelo could be left alone for a while.

They were left, uninterrupted by anyone; Emma in Angelo's arms, Chris stroking her back warmly. Most of the staff knew as well that Emma would not be returning.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **Hey everyone (this being directed at anyone who reads this story). I hope you enjoyed the last chapter. I'm sorry that I haven't posted in quite a while if anyone happens to care. But life got a little busy; broke up with a girlfriend, managed to salvage a diminishing friendship with someone 1,000 miles away from here, got a B- in Algebra II for my 3rd marking period grade, you know the usual. So yeah, I needed to warn you guys that this chapter is going to be a lot of fluff. It will, though, have a bit of angst and you'll learn a bit about Emma and some more about the cases that Greg is handling. But I also needed to tell you just in case I haven't told you before that I'm working in sync with a best friend of mine FutureMissCSI60 who has my character Emma in her own story as well. Her story is a story about Nick and her character Riley who I mentioned in the last chapter, but I just thought I would tell you all in case some stuff might not make sense. Anyway, to the disclaimer part of this disclaimer, I don't own anything that has to do directly with CSI: Las Vegas (even though on CBS it's CSI: ) and the only things I truly do own are those that have come straight from my own head. Well, if you were patient enough to read this entire thing, I thank you for your patience and diligence with my overextended disclaimer. ON WITH THE CHAPTER!

**August 13, 2006**

**Emma's Apartment—7:06 p.m.**

"Wait, hold still! I'm gonna do it this time I swear!" Emma said through a smile. She held a single green grape in her hand and was carefully aiming it at Greg's open mouth. He was trying his best not to laugh at her feeble attempts which had all ended up on the counter in front of him or the floor. She had terrible aim, but it was adorable all the same.

"Don't move. I'm gonna make it, you just watch." Emma spoke with earnestness. She was determined, though myriad grapes had fallen victim to her floor, and some had even been eaten by the underside of her oven, a place where no man had ventured. She aimed carefully, taking her time to make this right. She was also just doing it to annoy Greg who had to lean there on the counter with his mouth wide open, an embarrassing position of sorts. She leaned her elbow back, keeping the grape tucked between her right thumb and index finger and even went as far as to close her left eye for effect.

Finally, with enthusiasm, she tossed the grape delicately in the air. Its trajectory was obviously off but Greg was kind enough to boost her ego and move his head to catch it in his mouth. She squealed with excitement, and smiled broadly at her minor achievement. Greg just looked on, smiling as he chewed.

He leaned further over the counter, and kissed her quickly. "Best grape I even tasted." Emma just rolled her eyes. "So you gonna give me some competition or what?" She said, trying to hide a smile while sliding the bag of grapes across the counter in a not so inconspicuous gesture. "So you want competition, huh?" Greg said, laughing to himself.

They had been fooling around childishly like this for the past hour or so. It had really taken his mind off of the case that he was working with Catherine and Nick which he was appreciative of. Spending time with Emma seemed to do that for him, even if it was as simple as having a contest over who could score the most "baskets" with grapes, it was still entertaining and relaxing.

Emma felt the same, having recently lost her job at the hotel. She had gone through countless jobs, usually as a waitress or just plain bussing tables but at one point she loaded packages into UPS trucks on the graveyard shift for $13.00 and hour. Some of the money that she earned went into paying for crappy apartments that she rented and small snatches of food that she could get if she had an extra couple dollars. But most of the money from before had been deposited into an account for her to attend college, which she did with the financial assistance of her emotionally distant mother.

She attended Northeastern University, surprising for a girl who was now housed in a cheap apartment with what _was_ a job as a waitress. She had earned a degree in literature, mostly poetry which she loved. She also took classes in teaching since she figured that it would be the best way to employ her literary degree. After the first 4 years were completed she had gotten straight out of Boston and into New York where her best friend had offered her a place to stay. That lasted a couple months before she just got sick of being cold 6 months out of the year and went west.

Having settled into Las Vegas, she had taken the first waitressing job that she could find knowing that she was familiar with that. There she had met Anthony, Angelo and even Teddy along with a couple others. She dated casually but then came Porsche who had come into her life and, up until recently, hadn't left. They had been together for the past couple months which was great while it lasted. But then Brittany came along and Porsche ended up cheating which totally ruined everything to say the least.

"Alright, now watch the master at work." Greg said, boosting his own ego for effect. Emma just laughed lightly and shook her head. She really enjoyed Greg, more than she normally would allow herself to enjoy a guy at this stage of a relationship. She opened her mouth wide, trying to keep a straight-ish face but her smile would not fade.

Greg examined the grape closely, if only for the entertainment value. He inspected its weight, oval-ness, even sniffed it before finally taking aim. He propped his elbow onto the counter and tossed, with utmost precision, the grape that bounced right off Emma's cheek and onto the counter.

"Master, huh?" Emma said, smiling broadly. Greg took this opportunity to quickly jump the counter, sliding across with stealth and kiss her, again. Only this time, the kiss was a little hotter, and a little deeper. He turned her around gently, the kiss unbroken and leaned her against the counter edge. Emma was melting beneath him. Before she had anytime to really react, he swept her into his arms; one arm beneath her torso and one beneath her knees carrying her Superman style. She giggled and squirmed, all the while enjoying every minute of it. Her arm was draped around his shoulders in true Lois Lane fashion. Emma breathed in deeply, just for a second to capture the moment. It was nice to have a strong man carry you, wherever he may be taking you. She smiled inwardly and watched, out of the corner of her eye, his chocolate eyes taking a determined demeanor. His jaw was set, but a thin smile was creeping across his lips. She took the moment to study him, much like she had studied Pete in the hotel lobby although this time was different. This time she not only looked at him but she breathed in his scent, felt his T-shirt under her fingertips and his large hands under her. Greg interrupted her train of thought (or sense, in a way) by hoisting her up further onto his arms, trying his best to make the ride a little more comfortable, but the jolt had sent her thoughts reeling. Having come back to reality, Emma noticed that they had passed through the bedroom door.

He placed her down gently, sliding his arms out from underneath her as he did. Greg stood there for a second, surveying her carefully. She watched him do so and then took his hand, pulling him down onto the bed with her.

**Same Night—11:02 p.m.**

Greg's eyes slowly opened. His vision was blurred with sleep and his head was pounding as it normally would for taking a nap. Inhaling, his nose filled with the sweet scent of Emma's conditioner as he slowly gathered his bearings. His arm was draped over Emma's side and she was pressed against him sound asleep. Greg slowly withdrew his arm trying his best not to disturb her. He hadn't realized it, but her sheets were tangled between them, and with this new found knowledge he cautiously withdrew his legs from under them without agitating Emma's side of the bed. He slid out slowly, searching groggily for his clothes which were on the floor.

Emma stirred slightly, which caught Greg by surprise. He froze where he was, squatting down to pick up his shirt as his heart pounded as though he was a little kid almost getting caught doing something bad by his mom. He didn't understand why he felt this way though, since all he was doing was getting dressed. He wasn't sure whether he had planned on waking her up to tell her he was leaving for work though.

Emma finally settled back down which made Greg relax, if only a little. He was still tense and made sure that he was out of there quickly before "caught", doing what he wasn't sure.

He quickly stepped into his pants and pulled his shirt over his head before snatching up his socks and steeling a glance at her mirror to check the condition of his hair which as always had become irreparably disheveled. He skulked out of her room and sat down on the couch to put his socks and shoes on before tiptoeing to the counter to grab a piece of paper and pen to write a note expressing his apologies for leaving.

He placed the note in an obvious position on the counter and unlatched the door carefully. He closed it behind him softly and started his way down the hall, still able to feel the warmth of her body against his.

**August 14, 2006**

**CSI Las Vegas Crime Lab—1:17 a.m.**

Greg hunched over a microscope, examining the cloth wrapped around Shelly Nickols wrists and ankles. That bastard had bound these women before raping and strangling them. It sent shivers down Greg's spine to think such a sick person was be roaming these streets.

He was examining for epithelials that might connect someone, anyone. It seemed hopeless since it seemed as though every time that they made a breakthrough in the case, however small, another murder would occur and throw them 3 steps back from where they just were.

"Greggo, you got anythin'?" Nick stepped into the lab without knocking, a small peeve of Greg's but minor enough to ignore.

Greg sighed heavily, "Nope, nothing. Maybe he's smarter than we think. I mean, it's possible that he used gloves, and not only on his hands. You got any footprints from the scene?" Greg asked, hopeful that his partner may have come up with something more viable than his own evidence.

"I hate to tell you, but nothing. Not a shoe print, not a hair, not a print in sight. This is ridiculous, I mean, this guy has to slip up some time. There's no way that he could be this meticulous with every victim." Nick stated, frustrated. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the nearest wall in defeat.

Before Greg could respond, Grissom walked in briskly. He looked from Greg to Nick and then spoke, "I'm pronouncing this case a cold case. There are others to be solved. Catherine will give you the details. I'm getting the entire team on these cases, so that means that you'll be working with Warrick and Sarah as well." He stopped momentarily and glanced out the door. "I've told the others that any other case that comes in is going on the backburner, is that understood?" Greg and Nick nodded dumbly. "Good. One of you find Catherine and she'll update you on the entire situation." With that he left.

Nick and Greg's eyes met and Greg just sighed. "I'll start putting this stuff away." Nick only nodded and walked out to find Catherine, Greg guessed.

Without another word, Greg began to store away an evidence he was working on and headed out the door to find Nick and Catherine for the new case.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer**: So as you could have guessed, I've been pretty busy. I hope you all are enjoying the chapters so far. Okay, so I hope you don't hate me for this but I'm skipping about 2 weeks to move the story along faster. It gets hard to make a story interesting going day by day so I'm gonna be jumping around a bit. I know that what I'm about to write in this chapter isn't the date that the events actually took place but my friend is already into late October so I've got to catch up. I hope no one minds.

**August 28, 2006**

**Universal House** (Riley's Place)—7:09 p.m.

Emma sat uncomfortably in the corner of Riley's room in semi-awkward silence. Her aunt had just died which was a huge blow to Riley and her cousin Porsche, Emma's ex-girlfriend. She had rested her head on Kiersten's shoulder who was stroking her hair and quietly comforting her, something a small part of Emma wished could do.

Riley was standing at her bed, packing a large suitcase full of clothing and toiletries. Devon, her ex-boyfriend, sat near Emma. He was here for emotional support, purely platonic. He wished it was more than that. He had been crushed ever since he made the mistake of cheating on Riley and now that Riley was with Nick, he couldn't bear to be near the two together.

She looked over at him. He too kept his eyes on the floor except for stealing an occasional glance at Riley, a longing in his eyes. His face was blank except for the subtle signs of tiredness and sadness.

Emma was also there for emotional support, although she was concerned that she wasn't doing much supporting. She sat in silence eyeing the floor occasionally glancing up to watch Porsche. A part of her missed her yet the obvious fact of betrayal overcame any desire to get back together with her. The separation had been painful and hard but Emma had survived, surprisingly.

The room was quiet besides Porsche's quiet sobs and the occasional crunching of a plastic bag or the opening and closing of a zipper of a pocket on the suitcase. Nick entered quietly, all eyes turning to him. It was obvious that he was just as uncomfortable as everyone else in the room but he wasn't there to draw attention to himself, he just wanted to check on Riley's progress before they left to catch a flight to Texas for the funeral.

Riley was emotionless. She had given up on the act of crying long ago, much as Emma had (at least when she was sober). Her face was solemn and stern, placing all of her energy into packing and nothing else. Her resolve to pack kept her mind off her aunt which was good.

"Riley," Nick said softly. He placed his large, masculine hand on Riley's shoulder ever so delicately Emma wasn't sure he had even touched her at all. She looked back at him and nodded, still without much expression. She zipped her suitcase again as Nick lifted it off the bed and to the floor. He looked up, addressing Kiersten, Devon and Emma.

"Thanks for coming guys. We've got to get on the road for the plane." Nick's eyes moved around the room, deliberately avoiding Devon's trying to steer clear of any sort of confrontation, no matter how small.

Nick picked up both of their suitcases and took them down the stairs to be put into the car.

Emma gave Riley a sincere hug and kissed her on the cheek, "I'm really sorry Ry. I'll make sure to call you." She said with a small smile on her face.

Riley just nodded as Kiersten came up to say what she needed to Riley herself.

Emma quietly exited, giving a quick nod in Nick's direction. Moving silently across the lawn, Emma's thoughts were clouded but she was quickly brought back to reality with the sound of a familiar voice.

"Hey Emm," Porsche nearly whispered. Emma stopped, slowly turning around. Porsche stood there, looking good in a v-neck long sleeve black shirt and form fitting jeans. Emma tried to keep those thoughts back knowing that it wasn't her place to be thinking like that anymore. She looked at Porsche, her tear-stained face with black lines of bleeding mascara and eyeliner.

"Hey Porsche," Emma said quietly. She didn't want to be mean, and she didn't want to mistake her place in the situation so she kept her sentences short.

"Kiersten just left and I need a ride home. Do you think you could… just this once?" Porsche said, sobs choking her words.

With hesitation, Emma thought about her decision. She wanted to know that she wasn't going to do anything dumb but felt an obligation to Porsche not only because of her Aunt but for the fact that it would be rude to decline. "Alright." Emma unlocked her car doors and waited until Porsche got into the passenger side before lowering herself into the driver's seat. She slammed the door shut and started the ignition, all without a word. Porsche too was silent, feeling the unbearable awkwardness of the situation.

Emma began to drive, just drive. She didn't want to engage in conversation, didn't want to ask questions. She just wanted to drop Porsche off and be done with it.

**Porsche's House—**

Emma finally arrived at Porsche's place. It was so familiar, like a second home to her though it was weird being at the driveway of it. Porsche reached for the handle but stopped, looking back over her shoulder.

"You wanna come in for a drink?" She asked quietly. Emma hesitated before answering. She knew she could definitely use some alcohol therapy right now and besides, it would be rude to say no.

"Okay." Emma got out of her car, locking it behind her. She followed Porsche over the lawn and up the front steps, through the door into the darkened house.

Not much was said as Porsche brought out the drinks. There were myriad varieties of alcohol in her bottom cabinet. She took out not only wine but tequila, whiskey, gin, and plain old beer. It was tantalizing.

Emma grabbed the entire bottle of wine and began to drink. It wasn't that Emma had a more sophisticated taste of alcohol; it was only that it was closest to her reach.

Porsche too grabbed a bottle and they both plopped themselves on the couch, neither saying a word.

Eventually, Emma didn't particularly care what happened next. She let her hand reach for the bottle with no protest from her body. She stopped tasting and just kept swallowing because the wine was there and so was she.

Her thoughts reeled going over her job, her bills, Porsche sitting beside her, Greg and Riley who she knew was in so much pain but unwilling to let anyone know.

A sudden weight leaned on Emma's shoulder and in her dazed state; she saw Porsche slumped over on her shoulder sobbing. She felt her own hand rest on Porsche hair, stroking it gently. She leaned down and kissed the top of her head and whispered comfort into her ear. Porsche began to speak; slurred and jumbled she began to speak. She talked about how her aunt took her and Riley in when their parents rejected them after they got into some juvenile trouble. She talked about how her aunt had practically raised her and how it was as though she was losing her own mother. Emma just nodded, absently stroking her hair and occasionally taking a swig from the wine bottle.

Before long, Porsche had run out of tears. She leaned against Emma's shoulder, feeling Emma's soft flesh beneath her cheek, her delicate hand through her hair. Slowly, ever so slowly, she looked up at Emma who looked back down at her. She could tell that Emma missed her; she could read it in her eyes. She reached up a hand and guided her cheek down toward her. She kissed her, lightly at first, pulling away hesitantly but Emma came back for more, hungrily devouring her full lips.

She sat up, and without breaking the kiss straddled Emma's lap kissing her deeply. Her hands glided along Emma's jawbone, resting at the nape of her neck. Emma's own hands rested on Porsche's thighs, her fingers stroking the denim of her jeans.

The kiss broke momentarily, catching their breath. Their lips met again, their breath heavy and heated. Porsche's hands began a greedy venture up the back of Emma's shirt to unsnap her bra as Emma worked blindly at the button on Porsche's jeans.

Emma swiftly took Porsche off her lap, having her seated on the couch. Her breath was coming faster now, her eyes wide with hunger for Porsche's soft skin, her full breasts, her familiar taste; she wanted it all. She picked Porsche up having her legs wrapped around her waist. She quickly guided herself into the bedroom skillfully closing the door behind her without using her hands which were as of now resting beneath Porsche holding her against her waist. She savored Porsche's familiar taste, her teasing kiss, and her soft lips. She hadn't let herself feel how much she missed all of Porsche since the split but the feelings that raged within her were animal-like and unbridled.

She rested Porsche onto the bed, laying her gently. She tore into her shirt, hearing a loud rip as her hands greedily kneaded Porsche's skin and breasts. Their kiss was broken as Emma eagerly kissed down her jaw and into her cleavage tossing the shirt to the side.

Porsche moaned in anticipation, biting her lip. She knew no one did it like Emma and the thought of having that back was irresistible. Her back arched as she felt herself begin to come simply from the anticipation. Her jeans were already unbuttoned and Emma pulled them off fervently as Porsche moved herself farther up onto the bed. There was a single moment where their eyes met, wide and ravenous. Then Emma descended upon her. Their lips met, greedy and yearning. Emma slipped her hand up Porsche's naked thigh spreading her legs apart delicately. She allowed herself to rest between Porsche's legs, laying on her lightly with Porsche's legs wrapped around her.

She broke the kiss, smirking slightly at Porsche who was drowning in ecstasy even though Emma had hardly even begun. Emma grinded against Porsche ever so slightly making Porsche moan loudly. She placed her fingers under the hem of Porsche's underwear waiting for an objection but not expecting one. When none came, she slowly slid her panties down her long smooth legs dropping them off the side of the bed. Her fingers slid between Porsche's legs making her moan, biting her lip.

Her breath came faster now and Emma slid her finger deeper, knowing all the right spots. Keeping her hands busy, she returned to Porsche's lips devouring her full and naked lips under hers.

"I still love you…" Porsche managed between gasps. Emma paused for a second. Even in her inebriated state she still knew the consequences of such talk. Her thoughts were interrupted when Porsche cried out as a mind-boggling orgasm ripped through her. Emma just kept going, mindlessly. She didn't want to think about the consequences which she couldn't do anyway with her head so clouded with Porsche, sex and alcohol.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer**: No one in here has much to do with CSI, at least not that I can remember. Well, in any case they don't belong to me.

**The Next Morning—10:27 a.m.**

**August 29, 2006**

Emma's eyes slowly opened. Her head was pounding wildly and she pressed her forehead hard into the pillow in a shallow attempt to make the pain go away. Gaining an awareness of her surroundings, her eyes widened in a mix of surprise, shock and regret. She saw the familiar furniture of Porsche's bedroom, the scent of her fabric softener on the pillow, the feel of Porsche's supple skin beneath her palm.

All the information made Emma's head hurt even more. She felt the blood pounding at in her temples, the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. She slowly withdrew her hand from its position draped over Porsche's naked body and rolled out of her bed searching groggily for her clothes. She needed to get out of there, fast.

Pulling on her pants and tugging her T-shirt over her head Emma walked out into the living room the wine bottle still sitting on the table, empty. She slipped her hand into her jeans pocket and speed-dialed Kiersten.

"Hello?" Kiersten's semi-irritated voice spoke over the speaker.

"Hi. I'm gonna owe you big time."

"Emma, what did you do?" Kiersten asked in her omniscient way.

"I need you to pick me up. But it's a little more complicated." Emma said, ashamed. Her head was feeling as though it was going to split in two at any moment.

"Okay… what's up?"

"Okay so here's the short of it, I took Porsche home last night, got drunk, had sex and now I'm hung over and I need someone to drive me and my car back to my place. I'm so sorry Kiersten, you have no idea…" Emma began to apologize.

"No, you know I think I do know. I'll have Michael drop me off over there and I'll take you home. We'll be there in about 5 minutes." And with that Kiersten hung up. Emma knew that was a bad sign since normally the endings to their conversations involved actual goodbyes.

**:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:**

Emma waited expectantly at the window intermittently checking back into Porsche's room to see that she hadn't woken up or wasn't going to soon.

Her hair had spilled over her slender shoulders, into the curves of her neck and down her chest. Her peaceful expression made Emma's heart ache on top of her screaming headache. The sheets were barely covering the small of Porsche's back as she lat on her stomach facing Emma in the doorway. Her hands were under her pillow and the pleasant look on her face almost seemed to mock Emma for what she had done the night before. Emma couldn't help but marvel at the smoothness of her slender back and the sexiness of her curves. She yearned for the feel of Porsche's skin against hers, of her embrace but the betrayal kept pulling her back to reality. At least now they were even since she had essentially cheated on Greg.

At that thought Emma groaned softly and crouched to the floor resting her head on her forearms that were crossed on her knees. She'd betrayed Greg! Greg, her lover, her interest… maybe even her boyfriend? Who knew, but it made Emma feel that much worse for it.

She glanced over at the window and saw Kiersten walking up the steps as Michael drove away in the background. Emma rose slowly, trying to overcome the nausea that had overcome her. She opened the door quietly and avoided her friend's eyes. She closed the door gently behind her as Kiersten watched her clutch the railing for support as she slowly, ever so slowly, made her way down the steps.

Emma handed Kiersten her car keys without any words. Thinking about what Kiersten must think of her made her stomach hurt even more and even brought the hint of tears to her eyes.

Kiersten climbed into the driver's seat and turned on the ignition as Emma slowly lowered herself into the passenger's seat. She curled into a small ball and leaned against the door closing her eyes and wishing this wasn't happening.

Kiersten shoved the gear into Reverse and whipped out of Porsche's driveway making Emma's stomach do somersaults.

"Ugh…" Emma moaned when Kiersten slammed on the brakes and shoved the gear into Drive abruptly.

"Save it. You know I love you Emm, but you can't do this." Kiersten pressed accelerator hard and shot down the street to brake suddenly at the STOP sign. "You're not in high school anymore. You can't just sleep around with anyone and feel no remorse. You're a grown adult now starts acting like one." Venom seeped from Kiersten's words. They were not meant to hurt, only to scold. She knew Emma needed a reality check and at this moment, this was the way to do it.

She whipped around a corner and Emma whimpered quietly in her seat. Kiersten turned on the Radio, tuning it to the Rock station and turning the volume up.

"Kiersten, I'm so sorry. I know I disappointed you. I don't even know what happened…" Emma trailed off as her cheeks became flushed and tears rolled silently from her blood-shot eyes. Emma wasn't known to cry often, but this was too much.

"Sweetie, don't apologize to me. I'm not the one you cheated on." Those words stung Emma more than anything else.

"But you understand right? This isn't highschool. It's time to grow up. You're past the point where you can get away with shit like this. Now, it's just immature." Kiersten turned the volume down on the radio considerably much to Emma's gratitude. She reached into her purse and took out a small bottle of vodka.

"I brought this for you. Take a sip and you'll feel a little better. Trust me." She placed in Emma lap and left it there, knowing Emma would eventually take her advice.

Emma remained where she was. Her head was cradled in her arms her thoughts reeling as well as her stomach. Kiersten came to a stop at the light more smoothly this time, not wanting to inflict to much pain on Emma.

The rest of the car ride was silent. Emma eventually did take a sip of the vodka and nearly hurled as she felt the burning sensation hit her mouth and travel down her throat. But surprisingly it did make it a little better.

Kiersten pulled into the parking lot of Emma's apartment complex and saw Michael leaned against his car nearby. She waved slightly, signaling for him to come over. Kiersten switched off the ignition and reached over to open Emma's door. Emma remained curled in a little ball as Michael scooped her up in her muscular arms his tattoos flexing as he did. She wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed her head to fall onto his chest. Kiersten watched lovingly as Michael carried Emma into the building.

Coming out soon after, he walked back with his eyes on the ground. Kiersten climbed into the passenger seat of his car as he approached. When he took a seat, he leaned over and planted a sweet kiss on her lips. When he pulled away, he looked at her with overwhelming love in his eyes. "If I never told you this before, I love you. I needed to tell you that." Kiersten smiled meekly and nodded. "I love you too." She whispered. He hugged her warmly then began to drive them home.

**:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:**

Michael had set Emma down on her bed placing a friendly kiss on her head. She instantly curled up and fell asleep in her clothes. Sleeping the hangover off was the only way to truly deal with all of this.

Once she awoke, her head pulsed lightly. Her eyes were blurry and her mouth tasted like crap. Rolling out of bed, she walked into the bathroom and brushed her teeth making sure to rinse her mouth out with mouthwash as well.

She made her way to the kitchen where she pulled out a carton of take-out Chinese food that she hadn't touched when it came. Pork fried rice, God's gift to mankind. She pulled out a plastic fork from a drawer (since plastic utensils were cheaper than silverware) and began to eat mindlessly. She didn't want to think much about what had happened since she was still suffering the effects of drinking the entire bottle wine last night. Normally she would be able to hold her liquor better then this, but she guess it was the rest of the crap piled on top of her hangover that made all of this worse. But that was to be decided later once she could think straight.


End file.
